Q&A
by stephy.xo
Summary: Quick post-Somalia rescue oneshot. I suck at titles and summaries. Tiva


**Q&A**

_a tiva oneshot_

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><p>Hi. So, this is my first attempt at a Tiva fic. Or an NCIS fic for that matter. I've fallen in love with Tiva through watching NCIS re-runs with my parents. I've just ordered a bunch of DVDs so that I can get my head around what's properly happened, all the character relationships and developments etc, before I write anything substantial. In the meantime, I saw a clip of the rescue and there was something Tony said that has been on my mind.<p>

Quick disclaimer: I own nothing. Hopefully my dvds will arrive soon, but until then, nada. All mistakes are my own. Oh yeah, I used to watch Alias. You might be able to tell. I don't own that, either.

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><p>She stood, a statuette, watching the man who had played on her mind for three months. She would never admit it aloud, of course, but it had been the memories she had of him etched into her mind, the carbon-copy of his features that had somehow burned itself to the insides of her eyelids over the five years they had worked together, that had kept her alive throughout day after day of torture.<p>

She had not allowed herself to hope that he – or anyone for that matter – would come for her. She was dispensable: another flawless assassin could always be trained; NCIS could always recruit, or get in a transfer; and to Tony, she was nothing more than a partner. But then, one miraculous day, Saleem had pulled the dirty Hessian sack off her head and the most exquisite sight assailed her: one _Very_ Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo.

He was bruised, beaten and bloody, yet somehow his features remained beautiful. His green eyes lit up her cell, adding a light that the desert sun trickling through the grimy window could not. Ziva was dirty and broken, barely able to speak at the surprise of this seemingly ill-planned and foolish mission. It took all of her strength not to tell him everything she had dreamt of over the last three months, and an extra couple of ounces of determination that she didn't know she had left not to react to the one thing he said that she knew would play on her mind for weeks.

"_Listen, you should know I've taken some kind of truth serum, so if there's any questions that you don't want to know the answer to..."_

She had cut him off, trying not to concern herself with what he had been hinting at. She stole a glimpse into his eyes as he told her to get over herself, and she saw a sliver of feeling, a shared understanding: they had both suffered whilst she had been living in that cell; they had both formed this attachment, this affection, for the other.

What Ziva hadn't counted on was what the depths of her own chocolate brown eyes would tell the man sitting opposite her. As it had done so many times before, emerald green cut straight through to the soul she hid from everyone else. What Tony saw put him at ease: there was happiness, which he liked to think was at least partly due to _him_ being the one to rescue her; there was a softness, one he hadn't seen in her eyes before; and there was hope. The deadened, soulless eyes that had greeted him when he had first arrived, belonging to a pessimistic and broken Israeli beauty had gone. They hadn't moved anywhere, but he knew he was getting somewhere in bringing his Ziva back.

It hadn't been mentioned since, the look. Nor had the line about questions, and Ziva had, in a moment of sheer feminine weakness she hated to admit she had ever had, bartered with God. She had promised Him many things in her hours and days of desperation: she'd volunteer at the soup kitchen, be more understanding of other people's weaknesses, adopt an animal from the local shelter, and put an end to this complicated, intricate dance of flirtation and implication with Tony. It was the final promise that had led her here.

She stood, a statuette, watching the man who had played on her mind for three months sing to himself as he used the urinal, waiting for him to notice her presence. He turned towards her with a start, a sheepish look on his face.

"How long have you been standing there?"  
>"Long enough to see that you are well hydrated after your time in the desert," she answered shortly.<br>"And your thinking behind surprising me?" He responded, just as quickly, unamused.  
>"I was not sure what to say."<br>"But you were sure it had to be said in the men's room?" As he moved to the sinks, she moved further into the room. She cursed herself for making this ridiculous promise to God, and cursed herself more for holding up her end of the bargain.  
>"I was sure it had to be said," she started, her eyes darting between his face and the wall behind him, nervous. "When Saleem had you and McGee in that cell with me, you said something. Something that has been on my mind ever since."<br>Tony cut her off, "Listen, I wasn't making any sense. Saleem had pumped me full of truth serum and who knows what else. I'm not sure what I said, but I'd forget about it," a brittle grin flashed over Tony's face, as he snuck a glance at Ziva. He wanted to kick himself: she stood with her shoulders hunched, her eyes glued to the floor, a slight blush on her cheeks.  
>"You said two things, DiNozzo. One of them, well... One of them needs some clarification," she paused, wondering why she had to have found herself so very much in love with such an infuriating man. "You said that you couldn't live without me, which given your appalling diet, dangerous diet and how reckless you are when investigating suspects is understandable. But then you said that if there were questions I didn't want the answers to..."<br>"Not to ask," he finished for her. "Yeah. Incidentally, I'm a much better driver than you, always have been, but fiven your three months away I guess you must've forgotten," he cracked a smile, trying to avoid the subject she seemed so hell-bent on bringing up.  
>"Tony," she whispered, "please."<br>"C'mon, Zee-vah," he smiled to himself as he realised how easily his mouth slipped around the nick-name. "I just opened my mouth and words came out, I didn't mean anything."

Ziva looked at the floor, not able to look at him to show how mortified she was. "Okay, then," she muttered, walking away. Tony watched as she started to cross the room, the scent of her shampoo and perfume lingering behind her. He hadn't even realised he'd missed her smell, as well as everything else about her.  
>"Ziva, wait," he swallowed, petrified of what was going to come. "You walking out right now us going back to how it always was... it's not going to work."<br>She paused, turning on her heel. "What's not?"  
>"I think you know what."<br>"I need you to tell me," she pressed him, punishing him for his unwillingness to talk just two minutes earlier.  
>"Tell you what? That those three months we thought you'd died nearly killed me? That the second I saw that you were alive and okay, I felt like I could finally breathe again? That in all of the games we've played, somewhere between the teasing and the banter, you've gone from being a co-worker to partner to best friend to the girl I'm in love with, and it took you dying for me to realise that you mean everything to me?" Tony spoke ten to the dozen, not daring to look at Ziva's reaction until he was finished. A smile played on her lips.<br>"So I guess the truth serum wasn't necessary," she took a step towards him.  
>"Guess not," he tilted his head, searching for her answer in her eyes.<br>"Well then, what do you suggest, Very Special Agent DiNozzo?" With one more step, her body was four inches apart from his. With the proximity, her fingertips brushed his, and without thought he laced their hands together.  
>"Dinner?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.<p>

She nodded, and quickly put distance between them, leaving the men's room. She screamed a silent thank you to God; maybe the truth hadn't been as awful as she had feared, after all.

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><p>Thanks for reading :]<p>

Feedback is the breakfast of champions and all that, so please review :]


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